


To Me

by Hijja



Series: Hellfire [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Consent Issues, Dubious Consent, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-28
Updated: 2011-08-28
Packaged: 2017-10-23 03:24:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 933
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/245757
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hijja/pseuds/Hijja





	To Me

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Anne Phoenix](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Anne+Phoenix).



**Note:** A giftficlet for Anne Phoenix, prompted by Lysa1.

_______________________________________

The boy bristles like an outraged cat, his neck muscles rigid as the collar snaps shut around his throat. Lucius steps back to admire his handiwork. A tasteful, thin circle of metal encloses Potter's smooth neck, as black as the hair straggling over it as the boy shakes his head from side to side like a pet on a new leash. Yes, this will do fine, Lucius decides. He's not a subtle man, but here, a symbol will achieve more than brute force. After all, the boy has come to _him_.

He lifts Potter's chin with a finger, meeting furious green eyes behind glass, and a warm glow suffuses his groin. He will not insult himself - or his late master - by pretending that this is just vengeance on the Dark Lord's killer. It's not. It's all about Potter.

With a wand flick, he divests Potter of his clothes, surprisingly respectable ones for a Muggle-raised halfblood. Trousers, shirt, boots and summer cloak in black and scarlet reappear to fold themselves on the chair by the door, and Lucius admires the expanse of skin bared for his perusal. A few nearly healed marks from the final battle. For all that Potter defeated the Dark Lord, he walked away from it with only a few scratches. They all had, apart from Voldemort.

Too thin and scrawny to be pretty, Lucius observes, ignoring the boy's angrily thinning lips, except for the striking colours. A wiry sort of strength, though, under all that flustered modesty. And oh, the defiance! Lucius smiles slowly. Another flick, and twin metal bracelets appear round Potter's wrists, pulling them up to his head as they weld themselves to the back of the collar until Potter's elbows stand up behind his ears like the wings of a minuscule butterfly.

The boy wobbles, snarls until Lucius shoves him back against the wall; only his upturned arms cushion him from banging his head against stone. The snarl morphs into a horrified gasp when Lucius closes his fingers around Potter's soft prick, which first seems to deflate even further, then twitches under the rough kneading. Oh yes! As much as Lucius wants to curse the Ministry for inflicting this travesty of a 'peace agreement' on them, he has to admit that there is sheer, fitting beauty in this.

"Soon," Lucius promises sweetly, and really, the way Potter is baring teeth at him is just too precious. But that sort of insolence has to go.

A third wand flick whips the boy around as the collar fuses itself to the wall, leaving him gasping for breath with his cheek pressed into the stone wall. Quite a handsome backside, Lucius thinks and runs his hand over it possessively while smirking at the goose-pimples his touch evokes in Potter. And ultimately, much too pretty to leave unmarked.

He lifts his cane from the table, running the snake fangs of the handle up the inside of Potter's armpit. The ice-cold tickle provokes a yelp, and Lucius grins broadly behind Potter's back. After a melodramatic pause, he deals Potter's pert little arse cheeks two sharp blows that quickly colour into red welts. The boy groans into the wall at the third, delivered with considerably more force, and Lucius turns the cane to strike the last with the handle. A few red drops spill from the graze where the serpent fang has bitten down.

Lucius bends down to place the cane on the floor, and then pauses on one knee to lick the blood off the fleshy swell of Potter's buttock. The metallic tang blooming on his tongue is as sweet as Potter's panicked wriggle.

"Bastard!" the boy groans, silence broken at last, and Lucius permits himself to press up against his backside, the heated flesh burning against his thighs and prick.

"But it's what you asked for," he murmurs into a sweaty strand of hair curling below the boy's ear, and above the collar. "You came to _me_ , remember?"

This time, the little martyr remains wisely silent.

There is an underhanded compliment in picking him as the worst of Voldemort's former chosen, if only to protect his friend from passing into Lucius' hands instead. Well, not entirely - there was no way Lucius could have missed the hard look passing between Potter and Lupin when the werewolf walked up to pick Greyback. Young Potter, Lucius muses as he coats his cock with oil, unable to resist the throb and the lure of the boy's arse any longer, is extraordinarily protective of his little band of friends. In the end, it will make bending him to Lucius' will so much easier.

Slowly, but without allowing Potter time to adjust, he sinks into the yielding arse, reveling in the shocked little bird cry that flutters from the boy's throat at being breached. Yes, let him writhe! Perhaps it will remind him that it was his 'victory' over the Dark that brought him to this.

Ultimately, Lucius has absolutely no qualms to allow the little hero a bit of payback in the months to come, if he plays the game well. How better to instill a mutual bond after nurturing Potter's fury at the Ministry? He wants Potter and his crowd on his side in the end, if only to impress on Rufus Scrimgeour just how badly his plan to 'contain' the warring parties by binding them together in this has backfired.

For now, however, Lucius settles himself for a night of pleasure at Potter's expense - which is, after all, exactly what they both deserve.

  
_~ finis ~_   



End file.
